All
of these actions are a matter of grave concern not only because they violate
the constitutionally guaranteed secular character of the Indian state, but
because it also represents the creeping manner in which recent times have seen
a systematic saffronisation of cultural space within Goa.

While
there are many understandings of what secularism constitutes, the common sense
understanding within India is that the State will desist from promoting one
religious tradition over others. In the case of renaming the college of Pernem,
this understanding of secularism is exactly what the government of Goa has
violated. This act of the state government has privileged a Hindu faith
tradition over all other traditions within the State (and the country). It
would be unthinkable that a Muslim or Christian saint would be honoured by the
Indian or Goan state in this manner. To do so would raise cries of “pandering
to minorities” and “pseudo-secularism”.Given that similarity of treatment is fundamental to the practice of
secularism, it seems that state government must necessarily change its decision
regarding the renaming of the Government College in Pernem.

But
this is not the first time that the state government has demonstrated its bias
in promoting a particular brand of Hindu faith traditions. The choice of Sant Sohirobanath
does not seem to be innocent, but part of a larger trend where members of the
Saraswat caste have been held up as embodiments of Hindu culture, which is then passed off as Goan culture. Take, for example, the manner in which under the
earlier tenure of Chief Minister Parrikar, in 2002, his government sought to
commemorate the 125 birth centenary of Varde Valaukikar, also known as Shenoi Goembab,
as Konkani Asmitai year. While Valaulikar has garnered some fame as a proponent
of the Konkani language in the Nagri script, what has largely been suppressed
is the fact that he was an activist for the Saraswat caste who sought to create
a space for this caste group in the city of Bombay. This action was part of a
larger movement that sought the creation of a homeland for the Saraswats in Goa,
with the specific intent of allowing them to dominate it as their fiefdom.

There
is also the choice of D.D. Kossambi whose name has been employed to distinguish
the ‘Festival of Ideas’ that the state government has organised in Goa since
2008. In itself this particular action is innocuous, and yet when viewed with
the other choices of the state government one begins to see a larger pattern
through which Saraswat patriarchal
figures alone are identified as worthy of honour. There have been other men who
have been honoured, but as in the case of the naming of the auditorium of the
Ravindra Bhavan in Margão, this has often been after a bitter struggle for such
recognition by bahujan groups.

More
disturbing is the choice of the relatively unknown figure of Krishnadas Shama
to identify Goa’s premier intellectual centre, the Central Library. Set up
under the Portuguese rule, this institution benefitted tremendously from the
efforts of a number of native sons, not least of whom was Ismael Gracias, a
significant curator of this public institution. Given that secularism has often
accompanied a republican culture that privileges persons who distinguish
themselves in the realm of public service, it is a shame that individuals like
Gracias were passed over in favour of Shama. In fact, not much is known about
Shama except that he is the possible author of brahmanical texts, like the
Mahabharata, in proto-Konkani. While Konkani nationalists have chosen to
promote Shama as the father of the Konkani language, this is merely a dubious
assertion given that Shama could have been associated with propagating
brahamanical myths among a local population that was profoundly influenced by
Jainism, Buddhism and Islam. To this extent, Shama too emerges not as a secular
figure, but one aligned with promoting brahmanical hegemony. With this history
in mind, it appears that this choice of Shama is in keeping with the Sangh Parivar’s
attempts to brahmanise Hinduism, destroying all other forms of non-brahmanical Hinduism,
and leaving brahmanical groups in complete control of this complex faith tradition.

Add
to this the choice of the state government to name one of the stadia set up for
the Lusophone games after Syama Prasad Mookherji, founder of the Bharatiya Jana
Sangh, and an associate of the RSS.

The
choice to name the college after this brahmin saint should also be seen in the
manner in which the Parrikar-led government sought to hand over government
schools to RSS-backed ‘educational’ institutions. Clearly, through these
various choices in naming public institutions, the Parrikar-led BJP government
is seeking to create a legitimacy for the RSS and its program of Hindutva.

Seen
in light of these various facts, it becomes obvious that the celebration of the
centenary of this largely

anonymous Sant Sohirobanath, is a part of a larger programme
to saffronise the Goan public sphere. In his defence of the state government’s decision to officially celebrate the centenary of this saint, Nandkumar Kamat
has suggested that “Saints of all religions belong to the whole mankind [sic because
their sainthood helps us all to be good human beings.” While this may be true
in principle, under a secular regime the choice of integrating them into daily
life is an option of individuals, not an obligation of the state. The
government in this case is integrating this saint into the official culture of
the territory.

Persons
who would object to the protest we mount in this letter would no doubt point to
continued state support for the exposition of the relics of St. Francis Xavier
every decade. There is a difference, however, in that as far as my
understanding goes, the exposition of Saint Xavier is organised by the church,
and the state steps in largely to coordinate public order. The initiative rests
largely with the Catholic Church which is the primary celebrant. In the case of
Sant Sohirobanath on the other hand, it appears that it is not a civil society
organisation that is seeking the support of the state, but the state that has
taken it upon itself to celebrate the event officially. This is a crucial
distinction and must be underscored.

The
action of the state government is not merely a violation of the secular nature
of the state, but tantamount to laying the grounds for communal conflict in Goa.
With its choice of setting up a chair in the Goa University under the name of
this saint for the study of Marathi literature in Goa, the state government is
effectively further saffronising Marathi culture and literature in Goa. Most
people will recollect the manner in which ever since the 1960s the Marathi
language had been twined with Hindu nationalism in Goa. However, it should not
be forgotten that while Marathi in Goa has a brahmanical heritage, it also was,
and continues to be, the language of dalit-bahujan assertion against
brahmanical hegemony in our state. To this extent, the Marathi language can
also be the source of a profound commitment to a secular polity. To name a
chair after a religious figure pollutes the secular aspects of the tradition of
the Marathi language in Goa, and complicates the resolution of historical
differences that since at least 1961 have deliberately sough to keep Hindu and
Catholic bahujan suspicious of each other’s traditions.

The renaming
and other celebrations of Sant Sohirobanath by the government of Goa must be
protested vociferously, not merely because it violates the secular fabric of
constitutional governance in the state, but also because it is part of a
blatantly casteist agenda in Goa.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Every year the
Portuguese Association of Antiquarians (APA) holds the Feira de Arte e Antiguidades de Lisboa, a fair that unites
antiquarians from across Portugal for a week-long sale of antiques and other
slightly aged objects d’art.

It was at one such exhibition that I became
overwhelmed with emotion on seeing an exhibit. The object of this emotional
excess was a chest of drawers that formerly stood in the sacristy of the church
of Nossa Senhora da Graça adjoining the Augustinian monastery in Old Goa. This
chest screams out its Indo-Portuguese heritage, marked as it is by inlay work,
elaborate handles and the Augustinian symbol of the double-headed eagle. A year
later, at the subsequent Feira this chest
was once again on sale. It had clearly not found a buyer the year before.

Caressing the
chest on the second year a thought that first struck me the year before
recurred, why should the state of Goa, through its State Museum, or Department
of Archaeology, or indeed the Directorate of Art and Culture not purchase such
a fine, and restored, work of art? The object started its life in Goa, and was
clearly worked on by local artisans. In itself a fine piece, its provenance
would add value not merely to the holdings of the State Museum but perhaps spur
us on to rethink our own international location vis-à-vis the art form that is called “Indo-Portuguese”.

There are two
points that I seek to make here. The first is that despite its bungling of the
purchase, the Portuguese state was actively interested in acquiring the object,
since it sees the Indo-Portuguese as a part of its own oeuvre. This is to say,
we have the example of a state actively committed to spending large amounts of
money to assemble a cache of wealth in the public interest.

The second point
that I seek to make is about ownership. Merely because the Portuguese claim
this history as a part of their own does not mean that the contemporary state
of Goa, once seat of the Indo-Portuguese world should wash its hand off of this
heritage. On the contrary, the state of Goa, as a location that continues to
enjoy international attention ought to make its own efforts to appropriate this
history for itself. The history of Indo-Portuguese Empire is both Portuguese
and Indo (i.e. South Asian). It was crafted by not only by different kinds of
Portuguese, Europeans, and also by different kinds of Asians, South Asians and
natives of Goa, all of who operated within a system that had its nerve centre
in the city of Goa.

Born in the
subcontinent, and with a specific location in Goa, both of the objects discussed
in this column should rightly be the kinds of objects on the state government’s
list of ideal acquisitions for the Goa State Museum. Despite the fact that the State Government seems to be contemplating putting its existing antiques away in storage, the fact is that the State government has, through the Directorate
of Art and Culture, been spending a good amount of money in acquiring art works
from Goan artists.

Extending its
operation to acquiring, and displaying, these kinds of older art works would
allow the state of Goa to achieve a number of goals. To begin with, it would
allow us to claim ownership of art forms that emerged from the genius of
artisans of the past, and would allow contemporary artists the stimulus for a
more exuberant dialogue with the past. Secondly, the acquisition of history and artifacts is not merely the preoccupation of bored rich people. On the
contrary, it is the basis for the generation of further and future wealth. For
example, at an entirely superficial level, the aggressive acquisition of such
artifacts makes eminent sense for a state that makes money off tourists as it would
offer tourists to our state more options than the rather limited sun, surf,
sand and gambling that is currently on offer. If we are keen on developing
cultural tourism in Goa, then a museum with, a substantial permanent collection
and a dynamic series of temporary exhibitions, is an absolute must. Indeed, one could make a substantial argument that Goa's failure to attract the "well-heeled" tourists that so many seem to crave rests squarely on the refusal to embrace the cultures that existed in Goa between 1510 and 1961, and a failure to integrate them into a sophisticated cultural programme.

In sum, rather
than ignoring Goa’s antique heritage, the State government should actively be
pursuing a policy that would highlight this past, and a critical part of this
policy rests on re-reading the Indo-Portuguese to stress the fact that the
South Asian element was critical to this art style.

Friday, August 8, 2014

I laughed, long and hard, and then laughed
out loud some more on reading the aghast responses to the denial of Goa’s
request for Special Status. The laughter was not because the demand for Special
Status is unjustified, but because the response was so obvious! Our hopes were
pegged on the assurances of Chief Minister Parrikar, and the electoral promises
of Prime Minister Modi. It should have been obvious at that time that the Goans
interested in Special Status were being taken for a ride. There is no way that
a government composed of the BJP, a party committed to the RSS vision of an
undivided India, and the creation of the history of a Hindu(only) India, will
ever concede to the recognition of special-ness for any part of India that does
not rest on Hindu-ness.

The
impossibility of a BJP government ever conceding to Special Status is not,
however, what I would like to focus on in this column. Rather, I would like to
suggest that the denial of Special Status by the Modi government should be
looked upon as a blessing in disguise. This denial opens up for us the
opportunity to rethink what it is that we are demanding under Special Status,
and how we are making this demand. In other words, what exactly are the principles
that underlie the demand for Special Status, and what are the implications of
each principle; that is to say, who benefits from the choices made?

Thus far most
demands for Special Status seem to revolve around the issue of special economic
status, and constitutional clauses to ensure that only locals can own land in
Goa. In other words, the demand has been restricted within the bounds of
Article 371 of the Constitution. I have argued in earlier columns that such a
phrasing of the demand for Special Status ensures that it is really the landed and
business elites in Goa who stand to benefit from Special Status. The vast
segment of former tenants really do not benefit from this form of Special
Status given that local landlords can still get into partnerships with external
capitalists to allow for highrise apartments and other developments to allow
for more of the wild speculative ‘development’ that has characterised Goa in
the recent past. Similarly, grants from the Centre would appeal to the business
and industrial elites and wold not reach the common person except through
possible increase in employment.

If they are
intent on ensuring that they do not get cheated in the process of being
mobilised to demand for Special Status then it is critical that Goans put aside
an obsession with form and identify the problems they seek to address by
gaining Special Status. Thus far the debate has been about saving land,
identifying land sold to non-Goans as the reason for cultural peril. This
argument also blames Goans for selling land in the first place.This is a particularly unhappy argument since
it ignores the fact that the non-landed Goans who are selling land are doing so
because this is by and large the only way through which they can make money.
The argument does not recognise that these Goans operate in a context where a
system of power is in fact loaded against them.

Put simply, the system of power that I am referring to is one where
Goa, its homes and its landscape are fetishized by a Indian elite. Armed with
greater economic and political power thanks to the fact of a different
political history under the British Raj, supported by a representational system
that privileges Goan property but disregards the Goans, these elite consumers
from India are able to skew the market such that it often makes more sense to
sell a property, than to sustain the property. Add to this the almost
non-existent support provided by the state government to maintain homes, or
even diverse employment possibilities within the state, as well as a solid public
infrastructure. All too often then, the Goan who sells one’s property is in
fact operating against a system that is solidly weighed against them.

While making
this argument I would like to especially underline the fact that almost every
postcolonial popular movement to save Goan identity ranging from the Opinion Poll, Language Issue, Statehood, to
the Regional Plan, has rested on the shoulders of the bahujan Catholic men and
women of Salcete. Each and every one of these movements has appealed to their
insecurity and each time their aspirations have been frustrated, largely
because the demand for protecting Goan identity has been couched within the
language of Indian (i.e. Hindu) nationalism. These demands have failed to assert
that cultural demands, where Catholics are cast as not-quite-Indian are only a
part of the problem. The other problem rests in the fact that there has been no
systematic development that can empower the Goan population to gather both
economic as well as cultural capital.

The result has
been that the Catholic bahujan of Salcete in particular have been converted
into the oxen pulling the cart that fulfils the interests of Goa’s landed and
business elites. These groups have always managed to use these movements to increase
the scope for their autonomy. Any demand for Special Status therefore, must be
one that recognises that there is a great socio-economic diversity among Goans.
This demand must recognise that different kinds of Goans require different
kinds of support under Special Status, and that local elites need to be
restrained from exploiting the situation.

One could also make the argument, that the failure to effectively articulate issues
of social and economic equality both within and outside of Goa has in fact
resulted in the kind of communalisation of Goan society that we are witness to
today. The interests that were served were invariably of the upper caste and
business elites, but the movements were always misrepresented as Catholic. This
has pitted the vast bahujan majority against the Catholic bahujan minority.

If the movement
for Special Status is to provide genuine benefit to the people of Goa then it
must necessarily assert that the basis for this demand lies in recognising the
insecurity and marginalisation that the non-Hindu, and bahujan minorities in
Goa have faced since 1961, as well as commit itself towards a vision for
economic justice. Such a twining of agendas would allow for us to also address
the increasing communalisation of the Goan polity. The Special Status movement
would need to make alliances with the Hindu bahujan samaj, who at this moment,
have been largely seduced by Hindu nationalism. Indeed, there is good reason
for them to be seduced, given that it was Indian liberation that ensured that
they could escape the clutches of their landlords. Additionally, this Indian
liberation has also involved providing space for the Hindu bahujan through the
marginalisation of the Catholic bahujan rather than opening up new avenues for
all Goans. The Special Status movement needs to necessarily reach out to the
Hindu segments of the bahujan samaj to ensure that Special Status will meet the
aspirations of both the Catholic and Hindu segments, and that development in
Goa will be egalitarian. Such a reaching out would only be possible once we
start asking deeper questions about Special Status, not limit it to the issue
of ownership of land, or grants and tax breaks from the Centre, and recognise
that the negotations for Special Status need to be directed both towards the
outside, i.e towards Indian state; as well as inside, within Goan society.

About Me

Itinerant mendicant captures two aspects of my life perfectly. My educational formation has seen me traverse various terrains, geographical as well as academic. After a Bachelor's in law from the National Law School of India, I worked for a while in the environmental and developmental sector. After a Master's in the Sociology of Law, I obtained a Doctorate in Anthropology in Lisbon for my study of the citizenship experience of Goan Catholics. I am currently a post-doctoral researcher at the Centre for Research in Anthropology at the University Institute of Lisbon, but continue to shuttle between Lisbon and Goa.
I see myself as a mendicant not only because so many of my voyages have been funded by scholarships and grants but because I will accept almost any offer for sensorial and intellectual stimulation, and thank the donor for it.
This blog operates as an archive of my writings in the popular press.